


The Road to Home - part 8

by MiaCousland



Series: The Road to Home [8]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Battle, Blood and Gore, Darkspawn, Fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:14:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2550524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiaCousland/pseuds/MiaCousland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What starts off as a relaxing afternoon out, turns into something much, much different.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Road to Home - part 8

**Author's Note:**

> I've changed the POV on the this one from the usual pattern. It just felt right to have Mia narrating this one. I'll be back to Alistair before long. It's not my usual subject matter but it's all necessary.

Maker, this beer tasted good. I leisurely took another sip from the tankard. As I gazed out across the fields opposite the inn where I sat basking in the heat of the day, I pondered; a cold beer on a hot day – was there anything better? Behind the bench that my tired legs sat upon, the inn was fairly busy with patrons but it wasn't noisy. An open window reminded me occasionally it had occupants from the laughter that drifted through it. The sun was blazing but I sat in the shade, my feet resting on the water trough while my horse occasionally deigned to drink from it. Alistair and I had agreed to get away for the morning from prying soldier eyes but we had left separately and challenged each other. We had agreed the destination – a highway inn several miles outside the town – and had both argued that we would be able to get there first. A smile ruffled my lips as I thought with slight amusement that he had never had a chance of beating me. I had been sat here now for an hour and was on my second pint.

Hearing a horse's hooves echoing down the dusty road, I turned to see him eventually turn up. As he trotted up to the hitching bar, I smiled at him victoriously.

“What time do you call this?” I crowed.  
“How?” he asked with a grin. “How did you manage to get away so easily?”  
“Rogue?” was the cool reply with a shrug of the shoulders that bordered on contemptuous. “Stealth is kind of my thing.”  
“Well, I had to wait for ages to sneak out of that passageway you and Zevran showed me.” he complained lightly as he hopped down from his saddle and tied his horse up. “Even then, I had to run to where the horses waited for us. I'm not built for sprinting.” he pouted as he pulled his riding gloves off.  
“And there was me thinking those thighs had a lot of raw power in ...”  
“You're obsessed with my thighs!” he laughed as he leant down to give me a kiss. “Hello dear.”  
“Hello.” I smiled lovingly back at him as I returned the quick peck on the lips.  
“How's it looking in there? Any recognition?” Alistair asked as he peered in through the window.  
“Not that I can tell. If they do know us, nobody has said anything.”  
“And I wore my best shirt, and brushed my hair!” I grinned at his mockery.  
“There's a couple of idiots letching but they've been here a while, I think.”  
“Anything I need to sort out?” came a cautious and sweetly protective overtone.  
“It's very lovely that you want to look out for me but you above all people know that I can take care of myself.”

Alistair grinned as he peered down at me.

“Ain't that the truth. So what are we drinking?” he asked, nodding to my glass.  
“The beer is delicious and crisp. I don't know what magic they're doing to get it cold but get one of them quick before they all go.”

He smiled and headed inside, returning a short while later with a drink of his own. Taking a sip, he almost hissed his pleasure and relaxed back into the bench. He held his tankard in one hand and with the other, he interlaced his fingers with mine.

“What a glorious day! Perfect for enjoying a cool beer with the missus.”

I smiled at his attitude and took a sip from my own tankard. We talked about nothing; from farming methods to books that we had read as children, from sea fishing to what we had had for dinner the previous evening. Zevran had stayed with us at Castle Cousland till yesterday morning but his boat had sailed with the morning tide and with it, our valiant little friend had disappeared. We never did have that talk with him regarding the voyeurism as every time I had tried, he had been grinning to the point of laughing. He had an infuriating way of making me squirm with embarrassment inside my own clothes, just by looking at me with those damned sparklingly amused eyes. The past few days had been taken up with sparring, drinking, talking and generally reliving old times. We had stayed up till the small hours showed the early morning light, although I had the sense this time not to do so on the rooftop with drink. That would not have gone down well with my darling husband. No, Zevran's talking-to would have to wait.

When we hadn't been with him, Alistair and I had taken the opportunity to laze on some of the spectacular golden beaches that the coast along from Highever had to offer. Sometimes under watchful guards, sometimes not – like today. We both hated the constant attention so we made it a mission to get some alone time. A beautiful grotto that we had found had been a rather exciting destination one afternoon. It was remote and gorgeous, and we had taken the opportunity to once again attempt sex in the great outdoors. With a flutter in my chest, I remembered it as a much more successful day. I giggled to myself at the memory.

“Something amusing?” Alistair asked.  
“I was just thinking of Pike's Beach.” I beamed, looking at him with a coy smile.  
“Ah. Yes, that was particularly good.” he responded as he picked our laced fingers up to kiss them. “A shame it cannot be repeated soon.”  
“Yes. A great shame.”

I had kept to my promise to make up for the fact that we would be losing almost three days of our honeymoon. Not that I needed an excuse to make love to my exquisite husband but we wouldn't see each other for the next couple of weeks. That would be an eternity. Scouts reported that the retinue from Denerim would be arriving the next morning and unfortunately that would mean that Alistair would leave for Kirkwall the following evening. I had agreed with Fergus to stay on for two more days and then leave for Amaranthine. It was part of my duty as Warden Commander that I spent two weeks every two months in Vigil's Keep, training new recruits and seeing to the running and replenishment of the new base for our order. In truth, I was looking forward to being treated as a Warden again. Being Alistair's wife and Queen Consort of Ferelden, it was a constant stream of diplomacy and etiquette and entertaining, amongst other things. Life was so much simpler when I was just a Grey Warden. Fighting and boozing and story telling and more fighting; I smiled at the thought and a twitch of excitement stirred in my belly. I don't think anything else gave me more pride than knowing I was helping to rebuild an order brought perilously close to destruction, especially one was so dear to my heart.

I looked down to Alistair's tankard and noticed it was empty, as was my own. Picking it up, I headed inside to take them back. The comparative darkness caused me to blink several times as I stepped under the lintel and into the main room. After a year on the road, inns such as this one were no longer the threat to me they once had been. There had been a time when such a thing as a female Cousland setting foot in a tavern was a disgrace. Now, there was absolute no care in my head for any such nicety. Too much death and destruction had crossed my path for me to worry.

The empty tankards were set down on the bar and I waited patiently for the barkeep to finish tending to the other patrons. The afternoon was so relaxed that I was in no hurry to rush him.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my arse. It ran over the full cheek, cheekily squeezing it. I was stunned into no reaction and stared straight ahead while I worked out what was happening. It caused great confusion as I was wearing my dragonskin armour. If I had been wearing a dress, it would have been less disconcerting and, unhappily, less unfamiliar. Unfortunately my arse seemed to attract stray hands. I would take it as a compliment but it was horrifically presumptive. Alistair and I had made the concession that if we were to travel without guard then we would at least wear the light armour we had worn during the Blight. Only the light stuff, mind. He could hardly fit in wearing his plate, especially now it had been enamelled with the crest of the King. We looked like soldiers. My blades – my babies – were strapped to my horse but I wore the full complement of body armour.

So when I turned slowly to see the cretin who had decided to feel me up, it was with rising anger, confusion and a touch of amusement as to who would have dared.

I looked into the wavering eyes of a tall, lumbering fool. He smiled down at me with the queasy confidence of a local oaf who was knee-deep in milkmaids, but he was fighting above his station with me. He was muscular, that was for certain, but there was a thickness of brow that said to me he was not too happy with conversation or lively debate. Perfect darkspawn fodder. It was almost a pity that there were none about.

As he smirked at me, still with his hand on my arse, I looked at him and raised an eyebrow, not saying anything.

“That is one nice arse. I want to take it upstairs and play with it.” he stated with a sickening confidence.  
“Well, I want to know the darkspawn are gone for good but we can't have everything, can we?”

He gave it another squeeze. This time, my eye turned directly to his. My ire was rising and my patience was beginning to thin. I could almost feel my pupils constricting with anger.

“Seriously, get your hand off my arse or you will lose it.” came the cool retort. My would-be defiler laughed at me, launching a wave of bilious breath that stank of stomach gas and stale beer. I almost vomited then and there.  
“Oh, I am looking forward to you trying.”

My trained eye had already scanned him. He was powerful, that much was obvious, but there was no deftness of touch and no athletic dexterity. He was out-and-out meathead power. There were no conspicuous weapons and my rogue senses, honed through years of assessing potential fight mates, could tell nothing was concealed that I needed to worry about. Feeling the familiar tensions in the air, my body morphed through the space from where I had been stood, to directly behind him. His nose slammed into the bar with a nauseating crunch. He tried to stand up, clutching his nose with one hand and flailing about with the other, but my hand was already on the back of his neck before he could work out where I was. This time, the forehead hit the wood with a resounding whack. He slumped to the floor, moaning and spewing blood onto the upright panel of the bar. As I walked backwards to get out of the door, he reached out for my feet but they danced through the air above his clumsy attempts to drag me down. An unknown foot mashed down on his wrist and the idiot gnashed his teeth with pain. I looked up at the person who had come to my rescue. A tall, blonde-haired man with a quick eye and a slim, agile body stared down at the oaf. He wore good, supple armour but in no way looked like he could physically intimidate such a fighter as the one that squirmed beneath his foot.

“I'm sorry about my fellow patron here. His name is Niklaus. A good man to have on your side in a fight but he is a touch heavy-handed with the ladies. He has a temper to match as well.”  
“Aston, get your fucking foot off of my arm, you shit!” growled the man on the floor.  
“Are you going to say the magic word?” came the calm reply.  
“Fuck off!”  
“That's two words.” the new man said, pressing down with his foot which in turn elicited more painful cries. “Now, we've been working on your counting. One beer, two beers, three beers. Now, try again, what's the magic word?”  
“Aston, please can you get your fucking foot off my fucking arm?”  
“That's better.” he said as he reached down with an outstretched hand to help the idiot up. “Apologise to the lady for using such foul language in her presence.”  
“Sorry.” came the mutter before he slunk off to the bar.

My rescuer reached behind him to get a drink from the bar and nodded to the exit. I wandered out with him. Alistair, seeing me emerge with an unfamiliar man in tow, looked up and immediately raised an eyebrow.

“You going to introduce me, Maria?” he asked, using our code names.  
“Spare me.” the new man interrupted. “I know who you are. My name is Aston Breckenridge and I am at your service.” Alistair and I exchanged looks. There was distrust in my husband's eyes and the feeling was more than mutual. This was an awfully quick brush-off. No niceties, nothing. Just straight to the point. “You fight the darkspawn, as do I. I was one of the hill scouts when the Blight was in full flow. My hands have ripped open ogre skulls, just as your swords have.” he said seriously to us, looking me deep in the eye.  
“Apostate.” Alistair said in a low voice.  
“Templar.” Aston whipped back. “No, wait – you're not a Templar, just trained as one, which means you can probably cause me some pain. However, you are Grey Wardens. I beg of you – allow me to join.”  
“Join? Why?” I asked incredulously.  
“There are still pockets of darkspawn that litter this countryside. I want to defend the city, just as you defended the country.”  
“It is not that easy.” Alistair started to explain. “There are rules, formats, rituals, blood ...”  
“When the Warden Commander stands before me? How is it not that easy?”

A queer feeling started to creep up the back of my neck, a disturbingly familiar one. Alistair reached up to touch his forehead with a shaking hand.

“Alistair ...” I called out unsteadily. A reflex reaction caused my palms to itch and beg to hold my blades.  
“I know. Argh!” he said, wincing with pain. “There's a lot and they're coming soon.”

Aston turned around and kicked the door to the inn. “Now!” he shouted into the dark recesses of the tavern, a clamour starting almost immediately. Without even a thought, I turned to the horses and ripped my twin blades from their holster. I turned to face them, a growl on my lips and an excited quiver in my heart. My heart raced as armoured men poured out and surrounded us, pulling weapons from various sheaths that were strapped to their bodies. They encircled us. Swords, bows, spears, axes, and more; all brandished and glinting in the hot afternoon sun. My reflexes were fast but they wouldn't help me out of this mess. Fuck.

“Would you look at all these handsome demons?” Alistair said, never one to back away from breaking tension with a quip. “I feel with a song and a dance, we could sail through all this together. Look, I've even got a ready made fucking chorus.”

Alistair stood, his shoulders hunched and his fists ready to fight. His sword was strapped to his horse; he hadn't had my reflexes to turn and get his weapon. He looked as scared and angry as I felt. We had stupidly allowed ourselves to be surrounded. Twenty men stood nearby, all staring at us. In the middle of it, Aston stood with his arms crossed, gazing at us intently.

“Look,” I said, a headache taking over from the crawling fear slowly snaking up my spine, “you don't want to do this.”  
“Highever will send reinforcements to find us.” Alistair growled, moving ever so slightly in front of me.  
“You think we're here to attack you?” Aston laughed, dismissing the stance of his troops with a wave of his hand. “Why would we do that? We care about Highever, not the throne. We couldn't give a shit what hat you wear.”  
“Then why are you surrounding us with your weapons drawn?”  
“Because you're Grey Wardens. You are a sodding alarm bell for incoming darkspawn attacks. We've never been this prepared.” he smiled, eyes alight with a dark eagerness.

Knowing what they were now, with a practised flick, my babies were in the dual harness always strapped to my back. Alistair strode towards his horse, expecting men to jump out of his way, which they did. I followed him.

“How long have we got?” I asked Alistair as he started strapping on greaves. I pulled my helmet from my pannier and pulled it on, doing the buckle up strong against my chin. Maker, it felt good to do this in anger again.  
“My head is pounding and it's getting stronger. Andraste, my tolerance is down. I'd say a few minutes, if not less?” he said, buckling up his own helmet with practiced fingers.  
“My feelings too.” I agreed as I wrenched my gloves on. “Aston will be my second. He knows the territory and the men.”  
“Absolutely.”

Turning back to the assembled mercenaries, I addressed them quickly.

“Okay, so secrecy _isn't_ the watchword around here. Fuck it. I am the Warden Commander and you are now my army.” There was a murmur of acceptance. “Aston, you're my Constable. Give me a very fucking brief run down of my options.”  
“There are three mages, four archers – three with bows, one with a crossbow, and the rest are fighters. A handful of swords, axes, maces and spears.”

Looking around, I spied a small man, barely more than a boy. His bravado as he looked at me stomping towards him hardly covered the nerves so plainly written in his face. He never broke though, never looked away, and he clutched onto his sword for dear life, ready to defend his friends. I respected him for that.

“You!” I jabbed my finger at him. “Get up on that horse and ride like the fucking wind for Highever. Tell the guards that Lady Mia said there's an incoming attack and they are to shut the gates.”  
“Which horse?”  
“This sodding white one here that I'm pointing to.” I said as he raced over and put his foot in the stirrup. I gave him a shove and he almost fell over the saddle, just managing to sit upright and clutch the reins. “He's my fucking horse as well, so be nice.” I said, slapping the beast on the rump to make him run.

Within moments, the boy was racing away, spitting dust up in his wake.

“And where will the enemy arrive from?” I turned back to Aston.  
“If like before – and they are thick motherfuckers so probably – they will come over that hillock there.” he said, pointing to a small mound behind the tavern. “There is a small cave system opening out into a dell behind it.”  
“Why hasn't it been searched and emptied?” I asked hurriedly, irritated that there was still a latent threat to my hometown that hadn't been scoured and torched. “Fuck it, we don't have time for an explanation. Archers, up on the ridge. I want covering fire to take out any retreating shitheads. Target any mages if they're in range.” Four people grunted approval, turned and scurried to the top of the hill. “The rest of you, take orders from me, then Aston, and if either of us fall, then listen to Alistair here. Yes, he's King and in this, he is as skilled and fearless as any fighter that you are likely to come across." I didn't have to look to see the dopey smile Alistair wore as he waved to the crowd. "I want Aston to break us into three groups. One to meet them head-on and two to flank them, possibly to kick them in the teeth as they run screaming away like the little girls they are. Make sure there's a mage in each group.”

Aston very quickly divided the men into the groups I asked for.

“Right, I've done that. I recommend that the flanking groups take up positions over there,” he indicated a copse of trees before turning to point at an outcrop of rocks, “and there.”  
“Fine by me. Which one do you want?”  
“Trees.” he turned and nodded to a few men that stood together nearby. I noticed comically that Niklaus stood in it. He winked at me learily. My mouth ruffled in disgust but I beat it down. He was helping to defend so I'd take up his sack-of-shit manners with him later.  
“I'll take the main group. Alistair, take the rocks.”  
“Agreed.” he nodded.  
“Mages, I don't need to tell you what to do. You guys are fucking awesome at knowing how to protect your friends. Target your enemy counterparts. Those fuckheads are weasels.”

Aston grinned in recognition of what I was saying.

“A pint of beer for whoever makes it back. On me.” I shouted to which a small cheer of approval went up. “Listen, I don't want to make up bollocks about fighting for your friend or some such shit but I want you to know one thing. This is my town too. Now get out there and lets kick these fuckers in the teeth.”

The three groups split in opposite directions, not before Alistair grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me into a anxiously deep kiss. It had the edge of desperation in it and I saw the worry in his wide eyes as he stared at me.

“I will break you if you don't make it through this.” he whispered.  
“As ever, you are a poet.”  
“Mia, I mean it.” came the loving warning.  
“Alistair, I love you. I will be fucking you sideways when the sun sets. Do not worry. Now go!”

After a quick kiss and a melancholy smile, he turned and ran with his group towards the rocky outcrop. My heart skipped several worried beats as I watched him retreat, swiftly chased by a thrilled flush. This, and fucking my husband, was what I lived for. Darkspawn were the enemy and they needed to be taken down.

I glanced at the group that stayed with me. They were thickset men with scars and cauliflower ears; one with no right ear at all, no doubt a souvenir of a past fight. A quick count of weapons gave me a brutal looking mace, two axes, three swords – two with shields, and a wooden pole. It always amazed me how the simple staffs could often be the most devastating. I could feel the power crackle along it. The tall and muscled woman was terrifying to look at and she scowled down at me as I stared at her staff.

“I will use it properly.”  
“With you nearby, I have no fear whatsoever.”  
“Are you mocking my size?” she sneered, standing taller as she sized me up.  
“Is this the time?” I shot back with. “Wind your fucking neck in and remember who you're talking to.”

A nod of the head was all the gracious reply I got. Her features were deepset and angry, but the malice was gone. She would stand by me, I could tell.

“Let's move into position.” I commanded as I moved to run to our place. My headache was getting stronger but with it, my muscles almost relaxed into fighting mode. It was as if they were comfortable coiled and tense, and ready to launch my blades into the soft flesh of a darkspawn.

We trotted up a wide road that ran up the side of the hillock and came to a point where we stood at the peak, looking down onto a spread of farmland. My eyes twitched to the trees to my left. Aston's men were just filtering into it. To my right, Alistair could not be seen. I hoped and prayed to the Maker that it was because he was already in place, not through being caught out already. The archers were already here, and were strung and ready to loose. Arrows were nocked in all of them and they stood waiting for something to target. The crossbow was contemptuously resting on the shoulder of a dwarf as he looked out over the fields.

It was all of five seconds we had to wait before the bestial screams heralded the arrival of the monsters we knew where coming. A wave of evil fairly flew up the incline to me, buffeting my warden senses and momentarily screwing them over. With a shake of the head, they were back and keener than before. A power pulsed through my mind and I smiled darkly as I felt the hunger to kill stir in my stomach and build to a roar. The heads of those dark beings bobbed and their bodies skittered across the crops as they built up a speed to where my men and I stood.

“Archers, loose a wave on my mark. Target whichever pile of piss monster you want …” I said as I heard the taut stretching of strings to either side of me. “Now!”

The volley of arrows that cracked through the air was larger than I thought. _Rapid fire_ drifted through my head from somewhere and I smirked.

“Ready another volley! Loose at will! Now!”

I was dismayed to see that although the arrows landed with a dark grace, puncturing armour and skulls, they still kept running towards us. Not one dropped. My knuckles tightened around the handles of my blades and I stood my ground. Fifty feet … _heart beating faster_ … forty … thirty … _the smell, oh Maker the smell_ … twenty … _stances ready, feet pressed into the ground_ … ten ...

And then they were on us.

I ducked under the large curved sword of a hurlock as it swung violently towards me. My left blade found the hamstring before my right plunged into the flank of the fetid flesh. It stumbled to the ground, unable to stand with a cut knee, and a mace from one of my men buried itself into the black neck. One down.

Without wasting time, I spun round to see the incoming scything of another blade. This time I ducked again but not before taking off the sword arm at the elbow. My coiled legs sprung me upwards, blades ready, allowing me to bury my babies in the ribcage of the hurlock. Ooze spilled out of the puncture wounds, black bile flowing over my hands, and I renched the daggers sideways, determined to rip my way out of its sternum. It staggered backwards and my hands emerged, dripping in corrupted blood. Crossing my blades, my arms swept through the air, slicing open the neck to the bone. It toppled backwards, a fountain of noxious fumes erupting along with the pulsing gore.

I had a few scant moments to check how my fighters were doing. To my side, I could see a darkspawn stomach implode under the weight of a well swung axe. The weapon was wrenched out of the quivering mass before being buried into the forehead of the next hurlock. I felt of wave of power punch my side, almost setting me off balance as a fireball ripped down the hill towards a bundle of magical energy. What I presumed was a mage exploded in a blaze of red and orange death. At the same time, the bowl of land at the bottom of the hill ripped itself apart as the air crackled with lightning. It picked up the hair on my head up but I could feel no pain. I could only presume it was friendly arcana that flowed from one of the two flanking groups. With a knot of fear, I saw monsters streaming up the hill towards where Alistair was hidden. He had no choice but to break cover and charge down to meet them. The last I saw was the two groups exploding against each other.

A blade whistled perilously close to my left ear and it was only by the Maker's grace and my rogue training that I bent backwards and escaped my brains sliding down my shoulder. I wrenched my left baby around and found the exposed groin, and a burst of red and black blood fountained across my armour. I rolled backwards across the front of the monster, avoiding another hefty punch from the rusty sword. I hefted my right baby up into what I hoped was its balls. An auspicious spray of blood told me I had found my mark.

“Stay down!” came a cry to which I dropped again, narrowly missing an axe that bit into the hurlock's chest, through its arm. The forearm dropped to the floor and the dumb fuck stared at it, it's maw screaming with rage. I jumped up, dangerously aware that staying near the floor would be my death sentence. I dropped into stealth mode and morphed to behind it, finding the spine with both of my babies and dropping the monster to the ground. It collapsed and spasmed before having a mace buried in its face.

The immediate area around me cleared so I looked to see down the hill. Screams of pain and rage rushed to my ears. The air was alive with screeches of hurlocks. I could see an Alpha standing, trading blows with one of my comrades. It pushed the man back with savage blows from a double-headed axe, my fighter barely able to deflect the attacks. As I raced down the slope towards him, my rage pounded next to my ears. _Not while I breathe_ , I vowed. I was five paces from him when I jumped, arching through the air to bury my twin blades into the neck, finding flesh just under the helmet line. My weight and ballast pushed over the son-of-a-bitch and I wrenched them out, only to mash them back in to the exposed eyes. I felt humour spatter my cheek but I didn't care. The Alpha shuddered under me but the powerful claws still rolled around, desperate to exact revenge before it succumbed to the Veil. Claws thick with poisonous sludge scraped my upper arm where the flesh was exposed. The tainted blood would not take me down like it would others but it burned like a bitch. I gnashed my teeth and threw all my frenzy into raining down my babies like fucking hot pokers. By the time I stood up and looked around, its face was ribboned and mashed; bone, brain and black blood all oozing together into the ground beneath what was its head.

A glance up to my men at the top of the ridge told me that they had joined me, having seen off all the darkspawn that had made it past the archers. I grinned as I whirled on the spot, ready to take on more evil. I could see Aston throwing magic around and laughing. The cocky motherfucker was laughing! I liked him more and more. I caught his eye and raised my eyebrows, hoping he would now I was asking if he was alright. A nod of the head and a wickedly happy look in his eyes was all the reply I had time to take in.

 _Thud, thud, thud_ came an all too familiar shake through the ground.

Maker, it was one of those. My forehead broke out in a cold sweat.

 _Thud, thud, thud_ … A deafening roar announced the ogre. Its horned head crowned the hill from where all the others had come. My heart stuck in my throat as I saw the evil power in those legs, as thick as trees, as they thundered towards the fight.

Without a backwards glance, I ran between the fight as I fought to get to it before it could do the almighty damage I knew it was capable of. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw others running towards it. My heart swelled with pride as I saw five of the tavern fighters converging on it. _You dumb fuckers, leave it to me!_ my brain cried. A broken cry escaped my mouth as I saw the ogre swing one of its mighty arms and level two of them, throwing them backwards through the air. They landed on each other with such a crunch I knew neither of them would walk away from it. I gritted my teeth and pounded my anger into the floor as I closed the space.

The first slice from my blades barely scratched the skin, but when I whirled round and poured my fury into bringing the daggers down, it cut a deep slice into skin so thick, it could be used as armour. From past experience, I knew that the best attack was to concentrate on one chink in the defences. The slice deepened and festered before my eyes as I danced around and under the swinging arms and continued to attack. Before long I could see bone. I knew from the way it lurched that it was nearly done. However, as it lowered its head and bent one knee, from the way its knuckles pressed against the ground, I readied myself. As it sprang forward, I vaulted out of the way, arrogantly sneering as I landed deftly some way to the left. It stood up and immediately reeled to one side, a sickening scraping of bone accompanying it. As I stood there panting, waiting for another attack, it turned and faced me.

Something black inside my mind crept through my mental defences. It tasted a lot like doubt. As I looked at the fury streaming through it's eyes, I assessed the creature's health. It was nearly on the floor. But a wounded animal was dangerous in the extreme. A charge erupted from it without any of the usual warnings.

As I flew backwards into something hard, I heard a very familiar voice howl with fear, before my back exploded in agony as I crumpled to a heap on the ground. My head was woozy and if I lifted it even slightly from the ground, pain tore through my neck. Sound could only come in waves of muffled fighting. Through vision blurred by nausea and blood, I saw someone sprint to the ogre twice his size and jump onto it's torso. A mighty thud ricocheted through the ground and I cried out in anguish as my body was jolted by the waves. I must have blacked out from the pain for a moment as before long, I felt someone drop to the ground beside me.

“Mia! _Mia!_ ” were the last agonising words I heard before everything went black.


End file.
